


Siren Song

by hakuto_jelly



Series: word vomit i spedrun [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Emotional Hurt, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lonely TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), References to Depression, Sad Ending, Suicide Attempt, The Author Regrets Nothing, The inspiration for this fic was me listening to chirp on repeat so (:, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Misses Toby Smith | Tubbo, no beta we die like Mexican dream, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28374186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakuto_jelly/pseuds/hakuto_jelly
Summary: "He always hated the nighttime. Nighttime meant darkness, loneliness, and solitude, things that seemed to pull harshly at the aching hole in his chest, where his heart had once been, before it all. Before everything went to shit. Solitude meant being alone with his thoughts, dangerous in the state he's in. He doesn't know how much longer he has left."AKA Local Child-Soldier-turned-Exilee meets Cosmic Space Woman. He falls in love and finally gets the hug he deserves.
Relationships: Tommyinnit & Clara
Series: word vomit i spedrun [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134122
Comments: 24
Kudos: 202





	Siren Song

**Author's Note:**

> A fleeting thought that fluttered into my mind. It nagged at me so I wrote it down. I wasn't really planning on sharing this but I took the chance to share my thoughts. Hope you enjoy (:

He didn’t like the nighttime. It reminded him of blue and quiet and loneliness and dark. It reminded him of the dark blue of Tubbo’s suit jacket as he turned his back. It reminded him of his brother and a ravine and small room where everything went to shit.

When the dark came, so did the voices. They clawed at his ears, scraping against his mind. _They left you he left you you’re useless selfish a liability you’re volatile worthless they hate you you’re alone you’re over just end it jump do it doitdoitdoit._

He didn’t want to listen to them. He didn’t want to listen to the sound of it all echoing in the empty space in his chest that ached and burned whenever he was alone. During the nighttime, he would sit on a bed in his tent, staring at the picture hung on the wall. A pity gift, meant to rub in the fact that he couldn’t go back. They didn’t want him. No one wanted him.

With the dark came the monsters, horrid creatures that screamed and groaned and shrieked. They scratched his skin, tore his clothes. They bit him. It made his head hurt. A lot of things made his head hurt.

He didn’t sleep. It hurt too much to think, and thinking came with sleeping. He didn’t want to remember. He wanted to forget. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be with Tubbo.

Nighttime means that people are leaving. It means that Dream is leaving him alone with his thoughts and his feelings and his loneliness. Dream is going away. He doesn’t want Dream to go away. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore. Dream is his friend. Dream cares about him. Why else would he come and visit him. He’s useless. Dream must care, because he wouldn’t bother otherwise, right? Why spend time with someone as useless as him.

He didn’t like sleeping but sometimes his eyes would slip closed and he would see black and endless nothingness and suddenly he’d wake up with burning in his lungs and dark, blurred vision. He would choke and swim up, breathing in fresh air after excruciating moments of drowning in the dark water of the ocean.

When he left the cold, dark, grey place he called Logstedshire (because it isn’t home. It could never be home.) and walked through the whispering, shimmering purple portal that led to the dry, sweltering heat of the Nether, he smiled. The Nether was warm, not like hugs and comfort and hot chocolate by the fireplace, not like his dad. It was a crushing heat that pulled at your clothes and burned your throat. The air felt like a hand, uncomfortably warm and clenching at your shoulder, pushing its weight and heat into your skin, leaving marks that wouldn’t ever fade from your mind, no matter if the bruises faded from your skin. He loved it. It wasn’t cold, it wasn’t wet. The pain was a comfort to him. He relished in the feeling it gave. It gave him purpose. It gave him a reason to be happy.

He would walk along the cobblestone and obsidian path, reaching the hub at the end of the road. He would stare at the tantalizing purple portal that led to his home, his family, with longing. He turned away, staring at the bright, warm colors below. Reds and oranges and yellows swirling together into a mesmerising kaleidoscope that burned his retinas. He loved it. He adored the heat, the color, the lilting call it made. The lava crooned at him and he crooned back. A cracking smile tears across his face, pulling at split lips and dry cheeks. He hummed the lava’s song along with it.

The lava’s song reminded him of a red and black disc. Chirp had slowly become ingrained in his memory, in his mind. He heard the whispering call of the female astronaut behind him, a comforting presence that drew him closer and closer to the edge. It’d be easy to float along with Clara. She would never leave him. She would always be with him. She beckoned him down, the swirling colors the shades of her eyes. They were gentle. She would never hurt him. He wanted to float away with her, untethered to reality. Clara loved him and he loved Clara.

Everyday, he would trek through the nether and sit at their spot. Chirp’s melody would fall from his mouth and he would sway with the flowing orange river below him. The humming of their song buzzing from his vocal chords filled him with happiness that he had never found before. He felt relaxed, calm. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t sad. Clara’s song seemed to wrap around him, a comforting hug that burned him. He was free from the strings that enveloped everyone else, threading towards the puppeteer with his smiling, white mask.

He cared about Dream but he needed to be with Clara. Clara would never leave.

Day after day, he would go visit her among the stars, his mind fading until all that was left was Clara and him. Sometimes, the memory of another disc would ring through his ears. It was familiar, but he would cover his ears and cry out his song. He didn’t remember it. It wasn’t Clara. (What was the name of that disc again?)

(Sometimes he would look at a black and purple portal surrounded by blackstone and chests and wonder why he was drawn to it, why he wanted to go through, why it made him sad. He didn’t like it. He stayed away from that portal.)

He would eventually have to leave his home and return to the cold, dull overworld, go back to that tent and campsite. (What was the name of it again? Where was he? Why couldn’t he remember?)

Sometimes a person would come by and try to speak to him. The person was white and green and brown and he wore a blank, terrifying (terrifying? Why is it terrifying? He doesn’t remember.) smiling mask. He didn’t remember his name. A few times he tried to respond, but all that came out was Chirp. He shrugged his shoulders and went back to work on his farm. The masked man seemed sad. Why are you sad? It doesn’t matter. All he needs is Clara.

One day he returned to his spot where Clara was waiting. She crooned, calling him. Her song shifted, telling him it was time. He was ready to join her and float. He was ready. He was happy. He laughed and spun, Chirp spilling from his lips. Clara sang along with him. He would be with her soon, she sang. Slowly, his dancing feet brought him closer and closer to her. Soon, he’d be within her reach. He could fold himself into her arms and she’d never let go. Behind him, he heard the unfamiliar sound of a portal warbling. He heard gasps of shock and screams of terror. He ignored it all. Soon he’d be with Clara.

He laughed one last time, watching the lava, before he stepped off the platform and collapsed into Clara’s tender embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Chirp has a lovely melody, doesn't it?


End file.
